Hartley Potter and the Secret of Forever
by HRHPrincessTricia
Summary: "Hartley Potter grew up knowing that she was different from other children. Other kids her age didn't have nightmares full of screaming and cruel laughter. Other kids her age didn't have a destiny." AU Alternate Universe fem!Harry
1. Chapter 1: The Death of Innocence

**Author's Note: This isn't a happy story about happy little girls who go on to save the world. Officially, this is an Alternate Universe fic about a female Harry. One of the big initial points of divergence is that Lily's mother is still alive when Lily dies, saving Hartley from having to live with the Dursleys. I intend to do all seven books and a bit beyond in this one story. This style is very different from my usual fair, but I intend to try writing Hartley in the first person perspective in coming chapters. She's just so young for most of this chapter that I can't get into her head. Please read and review.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.**

Hartley Potter and the Secret of Forever

Chapter One: The Death of Innocence

Hartley Potter grew up knowing that she was different from other children.

Whereas the other kids in her class had a mother and father, she had a grandmother who loved her very much, and never let slip by an opportunity to remind Hartley how much her parents had loved her, and that it wasn't their fault that they couldn't be with her now.

Other kids her age didn't have nightmares full of screaming and cruel laughter. And Hartley would wake up and run into her Grandma Holly's room, who would make them both a cup of hot chocolate, and they would sit together, silently or speaking as Hartley wished, until she was ready to go back to sleep.

Other kids her age didn't have a destiny.

* * *

Holly Evans had been a widow already when her younger daughter, Lily, and her husband were murdered, leaving Holly to raise the girl.

Dumbledore had tried to insist the girl live with Petunia, which was frankly an awful idea. Holly loved both of her daughters equally, and it had pained her that they would never have the opportunity to settle their differences. Petunia would look at the girl, and she would only be able to see Lily, and that wouldn't be good for anyone. No, no, Hartley needed to be seen as herself, not Lily's miniature. It didn't help that she had inherited Lily's eyes.

So, she had taken the girl in, and tried to love her fiercely enough to make up for two parents. Some days were better than others. For months Hartley had screamed out in her sleep, for her mother, her father, Padfoot, Moony. Holly hadn't the slightest idea what had happened to Hartley's surrogate uncles, James' best friends, but they were nowhere to be see. She could only hope that they were slowly dealing with the loss on their own.

Time certainly didn't heal all wounds, but Hartley was young, and slowly, ever so slowly, she started to forget the tragedy that had struck her little family. After a year, she had stopped screaming for people who would never come, and had instead developed the habit of coming to shake Holly awake, almost as if she had to be sure Holly was still breathing.

By the time she was five, Hartley noticed that other children still had parents, and that she didn't. Holly considered lying, but that would only make the betrayal worse later, so Holly sat her down and told her that a very bad man had tried to hurt her, and that her parents had died to save her. But she didn't stop there. Holly believed in preparation more than anything, that nothing good came of hiding things from your loved ones. They would always find out, as she had learned far too many times.

After struggling for a time with how to make a five-year-old understand, she decided to tell Hartley the story of Arthur, and the knights of the round table. A prophesied child, destined to destroy a great evil, mentored by a wise old wizard with a long white beard.

"You've a power in you, Little One," Holly whispered to Hartley, stroking her hair with her hand. "Your momma had it, and your poppa had it, and it's why you survived."

"I have a power?" Hartley said, confused, tilting her head to the side, trying to understand.

"There are others, like you and your parents. People like you push, and the world moves. But more than that, you are loved, and that's the strongest power there ever will be."

Hartley thought on that for a long moment. "Is that why the Bad Man came?"

"Sweetheart, the bad man came because he knew you would be the one to beat him. That's your destiny. You're going to save the world when you're older," and then Holly pulled Hartley into a tight hug. If she had her way, Hartley would never know war or pain or battle. But the world wasn't likely to give her her way, and Lord Voldemort would rise again, more powerful than ever, and thirsting for the blood of her granddaughter. Hartley had to be ready.

Pushing down her own hesitance to talk about this, Holly continued: "The bad man has name, and we need to use it."

"Why?"

"Because," Holly drew a deep breath for strength. "If we're too afraid of him to say his name, then he's already won. The bad man is called Lord Voldemort."

"That doesn't sound like a real one," Hartley said.

"It's probably not," Holly admitted. "But it's the closest thing we've got."

Hartley sat quietly, looking down at her hands and looking more troubled and thoughtful than a child should ever have to.

Holly realized that maybe this was a bit soon to put this on her shoulders, but she had to know. She had to be ready when the time came, and if anything happened to Holly, she knew Petunia wouldn't tell Hartley a thing. She couldn't go in blind, she had to know that this was her destiny, that she was capable of succeeding. She needed hope.

"Don't you worry about it now," Holly advised, mussing up Hartley's hair. "With any luck, you won't have to deal with any of this for a very long time."

"How long?"

"Hopefully never," Holly sighed, looking out her front window. The world was a big, dangerous place, and she couldn't protect Hartley from it forever. Pulling her granddaughter close, Holly sang to her a lullaby she had read once in a book.

"I wish to you sunshine, my dear one, my dear one,

And treetops for you to soar past.

I wish to you innocence, my child, my child,

I pray you don't grow up too fast.

Never know pain, my dear one, my dear one,

Nor hunger nor fear nor sorrow.

Never know war, my child, my child,

Remember your hope for tomorrow."

-Amelia Atwater-Rhodes, Hawksong

* * *

Hartley's magic appeared slowly at first, small, easy to dismiss things. Things Holly was certain she had put on a high shelf seemed to find their way into Hartley's hands inexplicably. The spinach at dinner was suddenly broccoli. Locks no longer deterred Hartley in the slightest, and they all seemed to spring open at her need.

It all seemed to escalate towards a moment when Holly could no longer ignore what was right in front of her eyes.

It had been raining outside, so Holly distracted Hartley with old photo albums.

"And there," Holly said, pointing to a photo. "That's what Lily looked like at your age."

It was one of the few color photos Holly had of Lily, taken on her first day of primary school. She wore a green dress, with a white ribbon in her hair, and her smile was a mile wide. Hartley stared down at the photo of her mother, grasping a lock of her dark hair contemplatively. Suddenly, Hartley sneezed, and shook her head, and her hair turned a bright, flaming red.

Holly took this in stride. "Lily's hair was a little darker, like mine," Holly said, pulling her hair down out of its bun, handing a slightly graying lock to Hartley, who examined it carefully before shaking her head again, and the color matched more closely.

"Yes, Little One," Holly smiled down at her granddaughter. "Just like that."

By the next day, Hartley's hair had faded back to black.

* * *

A few weeks ago at a neighbor's birthday, Hartley had set the drapes on fire when a boy had tugged on her pigtails. Of course, no one had blamed Hartley. She had been on the other side of the room, but Holly had known.

As soon as they were home, Holly had pulled out the phone-book and found a local yoga studio, willing to take both of them on as new students in their meditation class. Hartley needed to learn to rule her emotions, before they started to rule her.

* * *

At seven, Hartley had decided that she didn't care for her name anymore. For a month now, she had been insisting that everyone call her by her middle name, Euphemia. On this, Holly had decided to indulge her granddaughter. Everyone went thought phases where they hated their name. This current fit had been set off by a new child in her class, a boy who had also been named Hartley. Holly had no doubt that there had been teasing the teacher was unaware of. Children could be carelessly cruel.

Of course, Holly wasn't going to sound out four syllables every time she needed Hartley for something. They had compromised, and "Effie" had been chosen as an appropriate nickname.

Like right now. "Effie!"

The little girl came running down the stairs, curls all over the place.

"We're going out into the woods today, put on some play-clothes," Holly instructed.

"Yay!" Effie shot off like a rocket, back up the stairs, laughing gleefully.

Digging their hiking shoes out of the hall closet, Holly shook her head at her granddaughter. Sometimes that little girl could be so excitable. A deep, familiar ache in her chest surfaced as she remembered that Lily had been much the same at that age, with an unquenchable thirst for adventure and whatever danger she could find.

More than a few times she had almost called Hartley by Lily's name. The resemblance was just too strong in the way she reacted to things. But Hartley had quiet, serious moments in a way Lily never had, shadows in her mind. The weight of losing her parents so early stilled sat on her small shoulders, as did her destiny as savior of the world. Sometimes she would play as a knight-errant, rushing off to defeat dragons, or anything else her imagination could conjure up, and then sometimes… sometimes it was almost as if she understood that her parents had died trying to do the same thing she had to attempt. Almost as if she understood how terrified Holly was that Hartley would die in the same way. No, Lily hadn't had that burden as a child.

Checking her backpack, Holly made sure she had everything they would need. Today wasn't just a fun jaunt in the woods, today was about training.

Once Effie was ready, the two of them set off into the forest behind their house at a calm, leisurely pace, hands joined, and listening to the sounds of the birds.

About half an hour later, they made it to a suitable clearing that Holly had located on a map earlier. Using some string, Holly hung a series of glass bottles from various tree branches around them. The bottles were full of water and blue food coloring.

"Effie," Holly called her to attention. The little girl came closer. "Today we're going to try something different, Little One. Do you remember starting the fire in the Mason's living room?"

Effie nodded, a somber expression. "I didn't mean to-" She protested.

"I know you didn't," Holly agreed. "But if you keep having accidents, you hurt yourself or someone else. You need to get a handle on it."

"But I don't know how!"

"That's why we're here." Holly told her. "I've set up these bottles. I want you to try to magic them."

"But it just happens!" Hartley said. "I don't make it happen!"

"We both know that's not always true," Holly smiled at her. "Search yourself, inside, just like in meditation class. Try to find that bit of you that can make things happen. Take your time. And when you're ready, you can give the bottles a shot."

Grandmother and granddaughter sat together on the cool, slightly damp grass, listening to the wind in the trees and breathing deeply.

At first, Hartley wasn't sure where to look. Those times she had been angry enough to make something happen, it had come over her in a rush, and she hadn't really been sure where it came from, or where it went. The power. The magic.

Closing her eyes, she looked deep down inside herself.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Hartley became aware of a bit of herself, right next to her heart. It was bright blue, and cold as an icy river. Focusing on that part of herself, she opened her eyes and found one of the bottles. With a little push of her mind, it exploded brilliantly.

Holly clapped furiously at Effie's success. "Well done, dearest! Well done!"

Feeling like she was standing in a light snow fall, Effie turned to the next bottle and froze the water inside of it. Laughing joyously, high on the feeling, Effie destroyed all of the bottle in turn, before a sudden exhaustion came over her, and she collapsed onto the ground.

"Oh, sweetheart!" Holly exclaimed, pulling Hartley into her lap. "Are you alright?"

"I think I overdid it a bit," Effie breathed out, feeling the magic pounding in her chest.

"We'll take it more slowly," Holly promised.

They stayed like that for a long moment, holding each other in the warm summer light of the forest, just enjoying being together.

* * *

That summer and fall they took many more trips to that clearing, taking it slow and steadily building up Hartley's magic strength. She started to use the magic more around the house, stirring her cocoa handlessly and if a book she wanted was out of reach it would float gently towards her. Holly couldn't have been more proud of her granddaughter.

And then one night, everything changed.

There was the sound of shattering glass and Hartley sat up in her bed, afraid. Her thoughts went immediately to Grandma Holly. Quietly, Hartley crept down the hall towards her grandmother's bedroom, and found it empty.

Shouting rose up through the floor boards.

"TELL ME WHERE YOU KEEP THE MONEY!"

"There's nothing here-" the crack of a hand on flesh cut off Holly's voice.

Hartley ran for the phone on her grandma's bedside, dialing the emergency number. "You have to come, quickly!" She whisper-shouted into the phone. The operator tried to calm her down. "There's no time! There are people in the house! They've got my grandma!" Hanging up the phone, Hartley rushed down the stairs.

There they were, a woman in dark clothing hitting her grandmother.

Hartley had never felt so angry in her entire life. Pure fury flowed through her veins, and she waved her hand at the women, pinning her against the wall with magic. She choked, gasping like a fish, and Hartley closed her hand into a tighter fist, blocking the woman's airway entirely.

With a gesture Hartley threw her through the front window into the yard, running to her grandmother. It was worse than she could have imagined. A bloody knife lay on the ground, and Grandma Holly was bleeding out everywhere.

Pulling her grandmother into her arms as much as possible, Hartley sobbed as the ambulance arrived with the police, too late. Far too late.

And so Hartley Potter lost another mother, and learned the danger in letting yourself love another person. People were fragile, and could only too easily be taken away.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Like I said, not a happy story. At the end, Hartley has just turned eight, I believe. Three more years until Hogwarts. I intend this to be a long one, so strap in for the ride. Until recently my user's name was Dustfinger's Cheering Section, so if you don't remember following me, that would be why. I haven't made any shipping decisions yet, and I'm open to suggestions, provided you give reasoning for your preference. This is going to be a heavy AU. Don't assume you know who is going to live and die.**

 **Please Review.**

 **HRHPrincessTricia**


	2. Chapter 2: Winter is Coming

Hartley Potter and the Secret of Forever

Chapter Two: Winter is Coming

…

The day of Grandma Holly's funeral dawned bright and clear, the last hurrah of summer in an autumn that was heading into an early winter. The sky was exactly that impossible shade of blue that heralded the start of an adventure, or so Grandma Holly would have claimed.

Hartley was dressed in a deep violet velvet dress that she had last worn for midnight mass on Christmas eve. It was tight in the shoulders and short in the sleeves, but Holly had loved it on her. Meredith, a close friend and neighbor, had been looking after Hartley until the Dursleys could make the trip south. Meredith had been the one to arrange the funeral, to brush and comb Hartley's hair and make sure she ate, to make sure she didn't just sit in the living room, staring at the blood stain on the carpet. Together they had packed up Hartley's whole life into a pair of suitcases and a few boxes. The will wouldn't be read until the service, but it was almost certain that Hartley wouldn't be allowed to stay in the house by herself, she was still such a small girl.

The Dursley's arrived the night before the service and stayed in a Hotel in the next town over. Truthfully, they had never wanted much of anything to do with Hartley during holidays or family get-togethers'. Hartley knew that that had been Grandma Holly's influence, not letting them be mean to her, and so they had unanimously decided to ignore her entirely.

Uncle Vernon was a whale of a man with a thick handle bar mustache, and small beady eyes that gleamed meanly. Aunt Petunia was a tall, thin woman with a strand of pearls around her neck and perfectly arranged hair. Their son, Dudley, was round and spoiled with his parents bending to his every whim. He was their pride and joy.

The service was quiet and proceeded exactly as expected in the local church. A man on a podium detailed Holly's life with cool, detached professionalism. Holly had been born into a wealthy family who disowned her when she ran away at seventeen to be an actress, but of course none of that was mentioned. Nor was it talked about how Holly had only consented to marry Drystan Evans after an eight-year courtship and the birth of their two daughters.

Not a word was spoken about Lily, despite her being Holly's younger daughter. That was probably Petunia's doing: She liked to pretend that she didn't have a sister.

All too quickly the service was ending, and the casket was being lowered into the ground in the church yard. Staring at the grave stone, Hartley began to grasp the reality of the situation in a way she hadn't been able to since they pulled her sobbing from her grandmother's body. This was the end of her childhood. Holly had done her best to shield her from the world, but reality was beating at the windows, wanting to be let in. She knew how this would happen: the will would be read, and there would be no place to send her but with the Dursleys, if they would even take her, and that was not at all certain. By this time tomorrow she would be in an orphanage, and then the real challenges would begin. She had to be strong, she had to be strong for Holly, Holly who had believed in her, believed that Hartley could save the world.

It was time to be a big girl now, and big girls didn't cry.

Rising from where she was crouched by the grave, Hartley dried her tears on her handkerchief and blew her nose lightly. Brushing the dirt off her stockinged knees and smoothing out her skirt, Hartley fought for control within herself. The white silk ribbon on her wrist had been tied into an elaborate bow this morning by Meredith, who's hands had been shaking. Undoing it now, Hartley pulled her hair back out of her face and into her best approximation of Holly's signature up-do. It was flawed and a bit messy, but it was a start.

Each step stronger and surer than the last, Hartley walked back into the church.

* * *

Petunia Dursley had not been so furious in years.

"… all other material possessions will be sold, along with the house in question, number 34 Willow Tree Road. The profits will be split evenly. One half will go into a trust to provide for the care and education Hartley Euphemia Potter, while the other half will be left to the deceased's only living daughter, Petunia Dursley nee Evans."

The lawyer shuffled his papers a bit.

"Oh, yes," he said, holding up a small boxed covered in gold and red wrapping paper. "This was also left to Hartley Potter," and at this point he held it out to her.

Hartley took it and examined it closely, holding back the urge to shake it.

"Well, go on!" Petunia commanded harshly, curiosity no doubt eating her alive.

This would be the last present she would ever open from Grandma Holly, and Hartley was determined to remember it. Slowly, ever so slowly, she carefully pulled apart the wrappings. Inside the box was a letter, and a velvet jewelry box. Inside was a long necklace that Hartley was sure she would grow into with time, and on the end was a single pendant, a delicate golden violin. Slipping it around her neck, Hartley avoided Petunia's venomous stare and quickly snuck the letter away into her purse.

The lawyer, Mr. Darling, seemed satisfied and shuffled his papers again.

"Now, onto the matter of guardianship," Mr. Darling continued. "Hartley is, of course, too young to care for herself. We have a few papers to sign, Mr. Dursley, Mrs. Dursley, but I'm sure we can transfer custody to you quite easily and quickly."

"We never said we wanted the girl," Petunia interrupted. "Surely there are other options."

"Other-" Mr. Darling sputtered a bit. "Other options? You are Hartley's only living relatives. I can't imagine what other options you think there are, Mrs. Dursley."

"An orphanage, or something," Uncle Vernon offered. "Dudley is a good boy. We don't want him infected by her, _strangeness_ ," Vernon whispered the word like a contagious disease.

"She's a child!" Mr. Darling interjected.

"You didn't know my sister," Petunia said, matter-of-factly. "She ran around with a crowd of freaks just like her, and then got herself and her good for nothing husband killed. We want no part of it."

"Is there not an ounce of pity in your heart for your niece?" Mr. Darling inquired in a defeated tone.

"I wish her no harm, Mr. Darling," Petunia declared primly. "I simply don't want her anywhere near my family."

A sharp knock on the door interrupted the conversation before it could go any farther.

An intern poked their head in, expression clearly expecting to be reprimanded for interrupting such a sensitive proceeding. "My sincerest apologies, but sir, there is a man here who is demanding to be allowed in to the proceedings."

"A man? Who?" questioned Mr. Darling.

"Albus Dumbledore, sir," the intern offered.

Mr. Darling ran over his notes quickly, but he could not find a single mention of a Dumbledore anywhere.

"Tell him to leave," Petunia interjected. "He's not wanted here."

A soft chuckle reverberated through the door, and the intern was gently pushed to the side, revealing an old man in a purple suit with a ridiculously long beard. "Your words injure me, Petunia," he said, entering the room with authority.

"And you are-" Mr. Darling tried to regain order.

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore," The man now identified as Dumbledore clarified, closing the door behind him with a snap. "You won't find me on that list," Dumbledore offered as Mr. Darling went back to searching the will furiously. "My presence here is only to ensure the wellbeing of Miss Potter."

Hartley looked up, meeting Dumbledore's eyes: they were light blue, and twinkled in a good humoredly way. His lips twitched into the slightest of kind smiles, seeming to share some sort of secret.

"This is a family matter!" Petunia declared, standing up and glaring at Dumbledore. "You have no right to be here, and no input!"

"I have Hartley's best interests at heart," Dumbledore said. "I have every right."

"This is all your fault!" Petunia all but screamed. "Everything has always been your fault! Ever since we were children-" Petunia cut herself off, and deflated into her chair.

"Your mother's death was a terrible and tragic accident," Dumbledore said. "I had nothing to do with it."

"You killed my sister!"

"I did no such thing," Dumbledore said. "And that is neither here nor there. We are here because you would turn out your niece, your blood, onto the streets rather that allow her to live with you."

"We want nothing to do with your lot!" Vernon blustered.

"Hartley is a child," Dumbledore said. "She needs caring for."

"If you care _so much_ , why don't _you_ take her?" Petunia spat out.

"Can you not love Lily's daughter?" Dumbledore asked, in a soft but dangerous tone. "Can you not swallow your hatred for the sake of your dead sister's only child? She looks so much like her mother," Dumbledore trailed off.

Petunia looked shaken, and became very interested in the pattern of the carpet.

"We will not take her! Let someone else, one of _your_ lot, take her. We want no part of her!" Vernon said.

"You know perfectly well why it has to be you, Petunia," Dumbledore said in a dark voice. "I know that your mother told you the truth of the situation."

"Because I'm special," Hartley spoke for the first time since Dumbledore entered the room. He turned to look at her with something resembling surprise. Hartley met his eyes straight on. "It's because I'm meant to save the world someday, isn't it? That's why you don't want me in an orphanage. That's why you're here, because you're going to need me one day and you want me to be somewhere easy to find."

"You are an unusually perceptive young woman," Dumbledore said, neither confirming nor denying Hartley's words.

"There a lot of things that are unusual about me, Mr. Dumbledore," Hartley said.

"See!" Vernon interrupts. "She admits it!"

"Vernon," Petunia called to her husband softly. "We have to take her."

"But, Petunia-" Vernon's confusion bled into his voice. "We talked about this! She's dangerous!"

"It has to be us," Petunia said, weakly. "There is no one else."

"Excellent," Dumbledore smiled. "Excellent. Well, now that that is resolved, I'll be taking my leave. I've intruded long enough," Dumbledore bowed slightly to Mr. Darling, who looked more confused than ever. "We'll be seeing each other again sooner that you think, Hartley," Dumbledore declared with a jolly wave to Hartley as he left the room.

* * *

The trip back to Grandma Holly's house was in complete silence. Hartley was sat in the back seat next to her cousin Dudley, who was examining her with something like a mix between curiosity and fear. Turning towards him, Hartley gave him a weak smile, which was hesitantly returned.

The two had never been left alone together, even on the holidays that they shared. Petunia always kept an eye on her "Diddikins" when Hartley was in the room.

There was something almost satisfactory in being feared. Hartley knew she could explode bottles, but what else her power was capable of was a mystery. Holly hadn't known very much either, other that Hartley would need a wand in a few years, and then infinite possibilities would open up, and she would go to that school, Hogwarts. Just two and a half years.

Dudley and Petunia entered the house as if they had been the ones living there for seven years, leaving Hartley with her Uncle Vernon.

Uncle Vernon got a firm grasp on her arm and dragged her into the backyard. Trying to stay calm, Hartley worked on repressing the shocked tears that wanted to fall. No one had ever treated her like this before.

"I know all about you and your parents, girl," Vernon hissed into her face. "I won't allow any of that funny business in my house, you understand?" He shook her a bit.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Hartley gasped out.

"Do you? I don't want you putting any of that nonsense in my son's head. He's a good boy, he doesn't need to be influenced by you."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Hartley repeated.

"If you put so much as one toe out of line you will learn to fear me, girl," Vernon said.

"That won't be necessary, Uncle Vernon," Hartley said. "I understand completely." And she did. Before, Hartley had never quite grasped that her aunt and uncle hated her for what she was. Now, she understood. She was a soldier in enemy territory, and no mistakes would be tolerated.

"Dudley doesn't know about your freakishness. I want it to stay that way," Vernon said.

"I understand, no mag-" Vernon shook her roughly, cutting her off mid-word.

"You are not to say that word!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon," Hartley said.

* * *

Hartley Euphemia Potter had been living in the spare bedroom of Number Four Privet Drive for two weeks, and as of yet none of the neighbors had seen her.

"She's very distraught over my mother's death," Petunia told Mrs. Partridge. "Poor thing barely wants to eat; she never leaves her room. I'm sure it will pass soon."

"That's terrible," Mrs. Partridge sympathized. "This must be so draining on you, Petunia. I can't imagine how you're managing."

"Some days are harder than others," Petunia admitted. Looking down at her watch, Petunia realized she had been dallying too long. "I'm sorry, but I really must be going."

"Of course, of course. You must let me know if there's anything I can do."

Waving Petunia out through the door, Diana breathed a sigh of relief. That woman could talk like no one's business.

Last year Number Seven had gone up for sale, and Diana had pounced, buying it up immediately under an assumed name. Daisy Partridge was a muggle widow whose husband had died in the military. Diana had had a dream last year, of an older muggle woman with gracefully silvering red hair dying in a home invasion while a small girl clutched her, sobbing. The lightning bolt scar upon the girl's brow had left no question to her identity.

The dream had ended on a Hogwarts letter, addressed to Miss H Potter, the Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.

It was almost like magic that Number Seven had gone up for sale that very week.

* * *

"You don't look so scary," Dudley declared.

Hartley bolted upright on her bed, turning on the lamp. Dudley closed her bedroom door behind him, coming to sit on the desk chair.

"I don't think your parents want us talking," Hartley said quietly, ears straining for any sound of her aunt and uncle in the house.

"I heard what you said to that old man with the beard. How is a little girl like you supposed to save the world? That's what parents are for," Dudley concluded.

"I haven't got any parents, that's why I'm here."

"You're going to tell me, or I'm going to scream," Dudley said.

"Didn't your mother teach you not to threaten ladies?" Hartley bit back without thinking. Seeing Dudley about to open his mouth, she continued on quickly. "I'm special, so it's got to be me who saves the world. No one else can do it."

"How come? There's lots of people bigger and stronger and tougher than you. They get one of the guys on the telly to do it. They're always saving the day," Dudley said.

"Can you keep a secret?" Hartley asked Dudley, already knowing in her heart of hearts that this was a beyond terrible idea and would no doubt blow in her face. "You can't tell anyone, not Piers or Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia. No one can ever know, it'll be just our secret."

Dudley leaned in, enchanted, nodding furiously.

"You have to promise, and you have to mean it," Hartley said, holding out her pinkie to her cousin.

"I promise," Dudley said, linking their pinkies together.

They shook on it.

"Watch," Hartley whispered, regretting her decision already. Holding a hand out to the bookshelf she strained, frowning. _Come on_ , she urged herself, and before their eyes one of the smaller books wiggled out a bit from the others. _Come on!_ Pushing with that icy bit in her center, the book drifted, shakily, across the room, landing on the desk with a quiet thump.

Falling back on the bed, Hartley closed her eyes, breathing heavily. Moving things was much harder than she had anticipated, and that book had been small, barely more than a magazine. The effort made her want to sleep it off immediately. Opening her eyes, Hartley looked at her wide-eyed cousin.

"That's how I'm special," Hartley said.

"Can you do anything else?" Dudley asked, enthusiastically.

"I'm not sure yet," Hartley lied. "Maybe when I'm older."

"I saw someone do that on the telly once," Dudley enthused. "Daddy turned it off as soon as he saw what I was watching. There were a whole bunch of people, and they all had powers like that, and they saved the world. The other kids are always talking about it at school. Maybe you'll get laser vision!"

"Please remember, you promised not to tell anyone," Hartley said.

"How can you not want to show it off to everyone?" Dudley asked, flummoxed.

Hartley thought quickly.

"Well, if everyone knew what I could do, then it wouldn't be a secret. How am I supposed to save the world if the bad guys know where to find me?"

"I guess," Dudley agreed hesitantly. "But why can't my parents know?"

"They do know," Hartley said, before she realized what she said. "They just want to protect you. If you don't know, then no one can ever try to hurt you to make you tell them. So, you see, it will make your parents feel so much better if they think you don't know."

Hartley knew that it didn't quite all make sense, but she was trusting that Dudley wouldn't be able to work it out. Grandma Holly had once told her that people will believe almost anything if the person telling them acts confidently. It's why people at the store will pay for the wrong order, because the cashier is confident, so they thing assume it's really theirs.

Sitting back up, Hartley smiled warmly at her cousin. "I knew I could trust you." People liked feeling trusted.

* * *

 **Author's Note: So, yeah, this took a bit longer than expected. The final word count is 3,169. I got really stuck at the funeral. This is a breather chapter. Not all that much happens, but a few important things are established.**

 **Hartley is a very different person from Harry, so she's handling things differently. As to Dudley… the cousins have had almost zero interaction. All he knows is that his parents think she's dangerous, and to a little kid sometimes that can seem really appealing. They're only eight. I don't think Dudley was anything more than a product of his environment. Right now he's more curious than anything. And as you might have noticed, Hartley is starting to manipulate people successfully.**

 **Diana was surprising to me. I have her family tree drawn up, and I had assumed she was dead. But now I can see that she's going to be very important.**

 **If you want to keep up to date as I write this story, and also see snippets of possible future events, please check out my tumblr. I post several times a day, usually, and I'm always glad to hear input as I develop the ideas for this story further.**

 **My tumblr name is the same as on here, hrhprincesstricia, and the blog is called "Scribbles and Ramblings". Please do come visit. There's already a nice bit of posts on there about this story.**

 **As always, please do share this story with anyone you think might enjoy it.**

 **I'm in the process of making a cover for this story myself, but if you'd like to make one, I'd love to see it.**

 **As to the letter from Grandma Holly, it has not been forgotten.**

 **-HRHPrincessTricia**


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